


you can come home to me

by LycaonCrow



Series: Smoke Signals [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dream almost fucking dies, Dream and Tommy are bio brothers au, Dream has just been so evil lately, Dream's Mask, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Major Character Injury, Major character death - Freeform, Pre-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), This is probably really OOC, Why are you reading this?, because I say so, god Dream i'm sorry, ha ha jk, i have an unheathy obsession with Dream's mask, i needed some brotherly Dream, i was so tempted to make this hurt/no comfort, if any CCs read this, it’s like just after l’manberg gained independence, no beta we die like Wilbur after he blew up manberg, so i wrote it myself, songfic?, that's the whole fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28333956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LycaonCrow/pseuds/LycaonCrow
Summary: “Take it off.”The words were triumphant, steeped in satisfaction. Dream’s breathing sped up, his heartbeat rabbit-quick against the cold metal of the sword. His whole body was shaking now. He opened his mouth to reply, but no words came to him.Tommy quickly grew angry at his lack of compliance, his shoulders drawing up, face twisting to rage. “Take the mask off!”“Tommy. . .” Wilbur’s voice was eerily calm compared to Tommy’s, edged in caution.“Wilbur, he’s been hiding behind that damned mask for too long! He needs to face what he’s done.”Wilbur’s expression shifted to something akin to acceptance. He sighed, “Dream, take it off.”
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Smoke Signals [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076843
Comments: 5
Kudos: 259





	you can come home to me

**Author's Note:**

> i just got a new clicky keyboard and i had to do something with it
> 
> please yell at me in the comments if you want more; it's my only motivation

Dream took an involuntary step backwards, almost slipping when his boots couldn’t find traction on the wet grass. Tommy followed the movement, his grip on the sword tightening. Dream eyed the gleaming netherite blade nervously. His own hands were terrifyingly empty, shaking violently as he held them up in front of him. His composure was quickly slipping away. 

The group crowded around Dream on all sides, pushing him towards the tree behind him. Even if he could slip past one of them, they would be able to catch him. The field surrounding them was empty, the sun was shining in the sky; no mobs would spawn anytime soon.

His eyes darted around, glancing over Wilbur, Tubbo, and Fundy, all in netherite and diamond. He cursed himself silently, frustrated with his lack of armour. His attention was forced back to Tommy when the boy shoved his sword closer against Dream’s throat.

“Take it off.”

The words were triumphant, steeped in satisfaction. Dream’s breathing sped up, his heartbeat rabbit-quick against the cold metal of the sword. His whole body was shaking now. He opened his mouth to reply, but no words came to him. 

Tommy quickly grew angry at his lack of compliance, his shoulders drawing up, face twisting to rage. “Take the mask off!” 

“Tommy. . .” Wilbur’s voice was eerily calm compared to Tommy’s, edged in caution.

“Wilbur, he’s been hiding behind that damned _mask_ for too long! He needs to face what he’s done.” 

Wilbur’s expression shifted to something akin to acceptance. He sighed, “Dream, take it off.”

Burning fear wrapped around Dream’s heart, shivers running the length of his spine. He whipped his head to Fundy, silently begging him to do something. Fundy’s eyes narrowed into a scathing glare. Hurt and betrayal stirred in Dream’s gut. All of the emotions that he felt were overwhelming.

Dream turned his head back to stare at Tommy. “I-I _can’t_ ,” He cringed at how shaky his voice was.

His words only served to make Tommy angrier. Dream could see the exact moment that he snapped. Tommy surged forwards, pulled his sword back, and viciously ripped Dreams mask from his face. Dream reacted automatically, his hands shooting up to cover his face. He stumbled backwards, his back thudding against the trunk of the tree. 

A rough hand clasped around one of his wrists. “I want to see your face.” 

All at once, his hand was ripped from his face and he was yanked forward. The biting cold of the blade was the first thing he felt as it slid between his ribs, grinding against his bones. His other hand shot down, grasping at Tommy’s wrist where he’d buried the sword to the hilt.

A strange amalgamation of a gasp and a whimper clawed out of his throat. His legs gave out underneath him, and he fell slightly, only held up by Tommy’s bruising grip around his wrist. The drop yanked at Dream’s shoulder, sending sharp sparks of pain up his arm, but he didn’t register it, too distracted by the ineffable agony in his chest. Even all of the adrenaline flowing through his veins couldn’t block the pain.

Dream coughed roughly. He felt something warm and wet splatter out of his mouth. His blood. He shakily looked up at Tommy, meeting his eyes. Tommy looked devastated. “T-Tom-” More blood rushed up his throat, cutting off his pathetic attempts at speech.

He fell forward when Tommy let go of the sword. Tommy frantically tugged at Dream’s hoodie, pulling it from his body and ripping it into long strips. Tommy tied the strips tightly around Dream’s chest, surrounding the sword. Dream knew it was futile, but he allowed Tommy the comfort of trying.

“Wil-Wilbur! Get a healing potion!” 

Dream could only faintly hear Wilbur’s confused yelling. All he knew was that he wanted Tommy to look at him again. “T-Tommy. . .” He shifted his hands from where they had dropped at his sides, wrapping his arms around his little brother as best as he could. When Tommy stilled, Dream dug his fingers into the fabric of his shirt, holding onto his lifeline. 

“No-No, Dre-Clay! St-stop!” Dream felt a spike of panic as Tommy pushed him back, “I h-have to heal you!”

Sadness settled into his clouded mind. The pain was burning at his consciousness. “Tommy-I don’t-” He coughed violently, splattering more blood onto Tommy’s already ruined shirt. 

“No! I won’t _lose_ you again!” The panic and fear that coated his voice broke Dream’s heart.

Another voice soon fell upon his ears, “Dream, we have to pull the sword out,” Dream wondered briefly what Wilbur was thinking right now. He pushed that aside and nodded as best he could. 

He gasped as a wave of sharp agony washed over him. The sickening squelch of the blade sliding from his flesh made him want to throw up. 

Tommy pressed a bottle to his lips, and Dream allowed the warm liquid to slide down his throat. Dream realized faintly that he couldn’t taste the sickly sweetness of the healing potion, the taste overpowered by the iron of his blood.

He gasped as the magic brew began to work, shifting his organs and rapidly generating new tissue. It was agonizing and overpowering, dragging under the waves of a raging ocean. He could hear himself screaming, but it didn’t feel real. It was as though his soul had left his body.

It didn’t last long. He was dragged deeper into the depths, light fading. He was lost to the dark. 

. . .

Consciousness came back slowly. At first Dream was only aware of his body, of the ache in his shoulders, the sting in his chest, and the dull pain in his ankle from when he’d twisted it two years ago; It was never that same after that. 

Then he became aware of his surroundings. Soft sheets; flannel, if he had to guess. He didn’t know where he was then. In his many years of being Admin, he’d never built a house, never had a bed. The room he was in was warm, and the lighting was dim. There was a solid warmth laying across his legs. 

Dream opened his eyes as slowly as humanly possible. He wanted to savor this peace. Above him, the wooden ceiling hung low. He sat up carefully, cringing at the sharp sting in his chest. Beside the bed was a small table, littered with various items; his mask (which he pointedly ignored), a glass of water, a potion of healing, a roll of bandages, a small lit candle, and a book and quill. 

Dream was tempted to pick up the book, but he could tell from the messy binding and the uneven pages that it was clearly Tommy’s, and he didn’t even want to know what the boy had been writing in there.

Dream chuckled quietly, bringing his attention to the other thing that he’d been purposefully ignoring. Tommy was sitting in a chair right next to the bed, his front half draped over Dream’s legs. He was asleep. A soft smile crawled onto Dream’s face.

Leaning forward slightly, Dream carded his fingers through Tommy’s blonde hair, the same shade as his own. He lightly scratched at the space at the base of Tommy’s skull and watched as his expression evened out. 

It didn’t take long for him to start humming. Dream didn’t know if Tommy would recognize the tune, but it was ingrained deep in his own memory. When it was late, and Tommy was scared of the zombies groaning outside, Dream would hum the same song until he’d fallen asleep. 

Dream remembered those days fondly, before the stress of running the server, before the masks and the acting. Before everything, it was just him and Tommy. Dream closed his eyes and leaned back onto the pillow.

Dream didn’t know how much time had passed before he realized that Wilbur was leaning against the open doorway, listening. The president opened his eyes when Dream stopped humming, gaze coming to rest on the man in the bed.

It was Wilbur who spoke first, voice soft so as not to wake Tommy, “Who are you really?”

Dream snorted. That was Wilbur, always straight to the point. “Tommy didn’t tell you?”

Wilbur glanced at the boy in question, his expression pinched. “He was a little busy. I’ve never seen him so distressed.”

Dream was silent for a moment, contemplating. “He’s my brother.” he said simply.

Wilbur appeared surprised, then irritated. He pulled away from the door, walking further into the room. His steps were quick and sure. “Tommy told me he was abandoned. You _left_ him?”

Dream flinched at the aggressive tone, shrinking back. “Abandoned?” He brought a hand up to his face, feeling along the ridges of scar tissue. “No, he wasn’t abandoned.” 

His other hand drifted to Tommy’s back, where he knew similar scars sat. “When it was just me and him, we lived in a forest. There was a village nearby,” Exhaustion tugged at his limbs. He never did like remembering this part. 

“Pillagers raided the village, set the whole place ablaze. It spread to the forest,” Dream pressed his hand to his eye. “And our _house_.”

Wilbur blinked, taking a sharp intake of breath. Dream could tell he wanted to say something. Dream leaned forward, lifting up strands of hair along the back of Tommy’s neck. Burn scars littered the skin, old, but still there. “I barely managed to get him out. I ran for hours, him on my back, my eye gone, burned out of my skull. I didn’t stop until I collapsed,” Dream’s voice caught slightly, the pain of the memories fresh despite their age.

“When I woke up, I was the Admin, and he was _gone_.”

Sighing, Wilbur sat down on the bed next to Tommy. His eyes were locked on Tommy’s scars. “When we found him, these were still fresh. He never once complained about them, and refused to say a word about how he got them.”

Dream rested his head in his hands, mumbling, “It took so long before I figured out how to find him. By that time, I had already done some horrible things. He was happy with Phil, you, and Techno. I couldn’t take that from him.”

“Dream. . .”

“I know. He wouldn’t have cared. But I cared. If I dragged him with me, he would’ve been hunted, used as leverage against me.”

“Dream--”

“It hurt so bad to leave him! To _shoot_ him! Wilbur, I _shot_ him! I--” Dream was cut off by being tackled into the pillow. His breath hitched, and his chest hurt, but he hugged Tommy back. 

His voice cracked as he spoke, but he didn’t care, “When-when did you wake up?”

“When you started talking about the fire.” Tommy mumbled into his neck.

Dream hugged him tighter, glancing up when Wilbur stood, flashing him a smile before walking out of the room. Dream sighed in relief as he closed the door. It took several quiet moments before either of them were ready to pull away. 

They had just gotten each other back, after all. . .

**Author's Note:**

> yes, the song that Dream hums is Smoke Signals by Cavetown, how'd you guess?


End file.
